


Welcome to the Herald's Rest

by Cyberfairie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Afterlife, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5069644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberfairie/pseuds/Cyberfairie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet another Sunday prompt that got away from me.   Warning: Trespasser Spoilers Ahead</p><p> </p><p>The original prompt from was: Adoribull Sunday Prompt – Adoribull – Bad End – In the fade the dead can meet again. Bull finds this out as he sees his chargers again with regret, rage and forgiveness, and year’s later Dorian passes away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to the Herald's Rest

Bull frowned as he stared at the familiar wooden sign that hung above a familiar wooden door.  The Herald’s Rest.  But it couldn’t be.  It had been years since he’d been in Skyhold, a little over two of them actually.

_Hissrad!  Now, please.  Vinek kathas._

Aww shit.  Bull’s hand flew to his temple as memories flooded his mind.  _Change of plans.  Nothing personal…bas._ Blood on his hands, the Boss’s.  His own.  Dorian’s eyes hard as slate.  Varric’s crossbow bolt sticking out of his shoulder, preventing him from being able to lift his axe.  The Boss’s own green eyes wet with tears.  The flash of a staff blade.  _Anaan esaam Qun!_

Both hands now clenching his head Bull…Hissrad…fuck, even he didn’t know who he was, shook off his thoughts.  He was dead.  He knew he was dead.  Had watched the other Qunari in the room engaging with the bas even as his eyes had closed.  Consciousness fading, Dorian’s bitter laughter had been the last thing he heard.

And now he stood here.  Lowering his hands he forced himself to look around but beyond the Herald’s rest everything was murky, full of shadows and mist.  Fucking fade.  All his life he’d been taught the end was the end and now…what?  The end was the Herald’s Rest? 

As tempting as it was to turn around and walk off into the void he had to acknowledge that as far as things went the Herald’s Rest wasn’t horrible.  After all, he’d actually enjoyed being The Iron Bull.  The fade could have chosen to put him back in that orphanage in Seheron.  Back in the jungle fortress that had almost killed him.  Back in his final moments with Dorian’s blade slicing through…

With a low growl Hiss..awww, fuck it, if the fade wanted him in Skyhold then he’d at least accept being The Iron Bull once more, reached for the door.  He half expected his hand to pass straight through the knob, but it was warm beneath his hand just like the actual one had been and as he pushed the door in and saw the familiar stone fireplace, rough-hewn tables and worn chairs Bull released a sigh.

 _Home._ The thought was a ridiculous one for a Qunari spy but it didn’t change the fact that his not so corporeal heart tightened in his chest.  Looking around he saw a couple of faces he recognized, two soldiers who had died at Adamant and one of Leliana’s scouts whose body they had found in the Arbor Wilds.  Before Bull could remember any names an almost inhuman scream pierced the air and he had only a second to turn his head toward the alcove the Chargers had claimed before a blur of dark hair and leather came flying at him, the flash of twin daggers catching in the torchlight. 

His scream as the blades pierced his neck was cut off as they each pulled past each other, the pain dropping him to his knees as his attacker pushed off him.  “Fucking bastard.”

Bull knew Skinner’s voice when he heard it, her booted foot jerking to a stop an inch from his head.  “You know you can’t kill him,” Stitches chided, and Bull assumed it was the medic that he should be thanking for stopping Skinner from kicking him in the skull.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

Bull blinked at the venom he heard in her voice, the words being spoken finally filtered through as the pain he felt retreated.  Sitting up he found his hand going to his throat only to find that there was no wound there whatsoever.

“He’s not worth it,” Stitches muttered dismissively, leading the angry elf away from where Bull sat, still putting things together.

Of course it made sense.  They could hardly kill him again but damn, it didn’t change the fact that Skinner’s knives had hurt…even if it had been a phantom pain.  And shit, it wasn’t like he could blame Skinner for her anger, he was more surprised by Stitches lack of it.

Climbing to his feet Bull glanced around to see that the Inquisition soldier’s he’d first noticed had apparently disappeared, only Leliana’s scout…Clarice, that was her name, was left nursing a tankard in the far corner.  As his eye reached the alcove again Bull found his feet carrying him a couple steps in that direction before he could stop himself.  Even knowing he had no right to know if the rest of the team was there, hidden from view by the stone fireplace, he _needed_ to know.  Needed to believe that despite his betrayal they were still together, still here in the place that they had all known such happiness.

His feet were moving again before he’d really even decided on a course of action, his eye planted firmly on the floor until he cleared the bottom of the staircase and knew the Chargers’ table would be in view.  Looking up Bull hit his knees for the second time in minutes, an unintelligible cry falling from his lips as those familiar faces came into view. 

Closest to him Stitches sat still holding firmly to Skinner’s arm, the elf glaring at him as though she’d attack him all over again given half a chance.  Next to her sat Dalish, the hand over her mouth hiding half her expression from Bull even before she turned from him and buried her head against Grim’s shoulder. Grim pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he looked across the table, Bull’s attention followed his to find Rocky sitting there, his ever moving hands absolutely still against the top of the table as he looked from them to Bull and back again.

And then there was only one more, the one Bull would have the hardest time looking in the eye, but he forced his attention to shift to the chair to the right of Rocky, the one that Krem would have normally occupied and another cry fell from him when he saw it was empty.  Surely not…the Maker or Andraste or whatever fucking deity had seen fit to put _him_ here wouldn’t have excluded…

“You know the floor is shit for your knees Chief…”

Bull’s head spun to the left and then he was looking through a sheen of tears as Krem stood before him.  Armor intact and shiny, the handle of that ridiculous maul sticking up over his left shoulder and a smirk on his face that was as familiar to Bull as his own.  “Cremisius…”

“Awww, come on Chief.  Enough with the waterworks,” Krem muttered, one foot scuffing anxiously at the floor.  “Don’t tell me I’m gonna have to let Skinner at you again.”

“No, once was enough thanks,” Bull grumbled, his hand instinctively going to his throat.

“Come on big guy, on your feet,” Krem encouraged, stretching out a hand that Bull just stared at.

Looking from the hand to Krem’s face Bull shook his head.  “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why aren’t you pissed at me?” Bull asked as he put his hand in Krem’s and let the smaller man help him up.

Once Bull was on his feet Krem shrugged.  “You fucking lost an eye for me Chief.  If you decided we needed to hold that hill then we needed to hold the hill.  You would have saved us if you could have.”

Bull felt that strange pull against his heart again.  _Hissrad!  Now, please._ You would have saved us if you could.  _Nothing personal…bas._ You fucking lost an eye for me Chief.  _The Iron Bull must have been so proud of himself.  “Kadan…”_

Something broke inside him, the sound that poured from his lips less human than animal as he wrested from Krem’s grasp and ran from the tavern, from Krem and the Chargers, from his responsibilities to the Qun and his failures to the Inquisition, from the dead and the living and everything else in between until his mind was as empty as the fog that surrounded him.

 

The good thing about being dead, Bull quickly decided, was that his knee no longer hurt and his lungs didn’t truly need to function which meant that he could run practically forever.  The bad thing about that was that eventually his mind started to work again no matter how much he willed it not to and with a few more stumbling steps he came to a stop.

Dropping to the ground he rested his arms on his raised knees and stared into the nothingness.  The true horror of his existence hitting him for probably the first time.  Hissrad.  Liar.  The Iron Bull.  All lies.  Except that the biggest lie of all was that it wasn’t.

He could have built a merc company full of men that he didn’t give a damn about.  It was done all the time.  Men who would have been as interchangeable in his life as any Tallis or Salit.  Men he could have let die on that hill in the pouring rain and never given a fuck that they were dead.

But he hadn’t.  Instead he had stopped a young ‘Vint from dying and lost his eye in the process.  And then he’d found an alienage elf who was about to be strung up for stealing and instead added her to his numbers.  A casteless dwarf, a clanless Dalish elf, a man who could be prince for all anyone knew since he refused to speak.  Because if Bull couldn’t save himself then maybe, just maybe, he could save them.

But he hadn’t saved them.  And even worse, in the end, he hadn’t even tried.  When the Inquisitor had agreed with Gatt, he had simply watched as the Venatori cut them down.  And they had fallen, to a one, because they believed in him.   _You would have saved us if you could._  Tipping his head back Bull screamed his frustrations out into the void until his throat was hoarse, and then when he paused to swallow and it repaired itself, he screamed some more.  Screamed until he felt as empty as the fog that surrounded him, and when he let his head fall back down he saw it…a faint yellow light.

Some part of him knew even before he stood just what he would find when he got there, but still when the distinctive shape rose from the mist Bull laughed like he hadn’t in years.  Because whatever twisted deity held control over him obviously had a sense of humor.  The Herald’s Rest.  Of course it was.

And leaning against the wall next to the door was Krem.  His arms crossed over his chest, one leg bent with his foot resting against the building and a disappointed look on his face.  The younger man waited until Bull was so close he could count the individual hairs on Krem’s head before he finally asked, “So, you done running Chief?”

“You don’t understand Krem…”

“That we all died so the Inquisition could have their alliance with the Qun?”

Krem laughed, actually laughed when Bull just stared at him.  “Come on Chief.  You think the lot of us stayed on that hill without knowing what was at stake?  In the end it didn’t matter, you told us we had to hold the line and we did.”

“I never left the Qun.”  The words were out of Bull’s mouth before he could think to stop them.

“Well no shit Chief.  You certainly told all of us that often enough.”

This time Bull had time to think about what to say and still he found himself admitting, “No, I don’t mean those bullshit reports Red screened.  I mean the ones she never saw.  The ones that told Par Vollen exactly when the right time to strike was.”

Krem’s frown told Bull he was finally grasping what he was saying.  “What do you mean the right time to strike?”

Bull chuffed.  “How do you think I ended up here?”

“The fucking Qunari took over the Inquisition?”

“Not a clue.  They had a good foot in the door in Orlais though before things took a shit.”

Krem kicked off the wall, closing the distance between them as he growled, “Just how did you end up dead?”

“The Viddasala commanded and I obeyed, just like any good Qunari,” Bull shrugged.  “Then Varric put a bolt through my shoulder and Dorian slit my throat.”

Krem’s eyes went wide and he actually stumbled back a couple of steps.  “You fucking went after the ‘Vint?”

“Technically I went after the Boss.” 

“But…I…Why?”

 _Because they told me too._   Damn, the words seemed to stick in his throat and Bull found it impossible to get them out.  The words should have been because my country demanded it.  Or because it’s what I believe.  But instead he was standing here in front of a man who had defied his country and his family, to stay true to himself and all Bull could come up with was ‘they made me’.

Fuck, had he really betrayed the man he’d loved because it was _easy_?  Because when the time for decisions had come he had deferred to the Inquisitor rather than do what was right.  Only to fail once more when the Viddasala had issued her command he had instinctively obeyed.

Bull had been so lost in his own mind he didn’t even notice Krem had approached him until he grabbed Bull’s shoulder.  Concern read clearly in Krem’s eyes as he asked again, “Why Chief?”

“Because I made a mistake.” The words practically tore themselves from his throat, but the moment they were free he knew they were right.  He should have saved the Chargers.  He should have backed the Inquisitor.  He should have _trusted_ Dorian.

Krem whistled softly and shook his head.  “Well, when you make a mistake you make sure it’s a big one.”

The next words were almost harder for Bull to say but infinitely more important.  “I’m sorry Krem.”

“Ah, none of that shit for me you big lug,” Krem scowled, slapping Bull on the shoulder.  “Got the rest of eternity to figure it all out, what’s say we do it over a pint?”

“Skinner still likely to kill me?”

“That’s the good news Chief,” Krem chuckled as he opened the door to the tavern and waved Bull through.  “You’re already dead.”

 

 

Dorian scowled as he looked at the building before him.  A building he hadn’t seen in person in over fifteen years.  There could be no doubt he was in the fade, the question was why?  The last thing he remembered he was leaving a meeting of the Lucerni with Mae, they had been discussing whether the time was right to finally present a measure that would end the slave trade for good in Tevinter and then there had been a man in a hood before him, the blossoming pain of a knife to his ribs and…

Vishante kaffas.  Ever so sloppy of him, trusting that his own halls were safe.  Maevaris would kill him if he wasn’t already apparently dead.  Although the whole being dead thing brought to mind another question, specifically why here?  With a lifetime of knowing the fade would provide the information it wished Dorian approached the familiar wooden door and pushed it open.

He found himself stumbling to a stop just inside the door, the familiar smell of pine and stale beer acting like a balm on his soul as Dorian breathed freely for the first time in thirteen years.  For the first time since…

“’Vint, didn’t expect to see you so soon.”  Dorian startled at the familiar voice, his eyes tracking to the eternally young man striding towards him with his arms out.

“Cremisius,” he managed to stutter before he found himself enveloped in a hug that was over almost before it began.  Falling back on old habits Dorian found himself muttering, “You know it isn’t an insult when you’re also a ‘Vint.”

“Would you prefer Altus…or perhaps Magister suits you more these days.”

“Maker no,” Dorian scowled, allowing Krem to pull him toward the back corner of the tavern.  “You don’t mean to tell me…”

Dorian broke off as his name was called out several times, his eyes going distinctly misty as he saw the rest of the Chargers gathered around their typical table.

“Awwww, don’t go crying on me ‘Vint,” Krem chided as he slapped Dorian’s shoulder.  “Can’t have you watering down the ale.”

“Fasta vass, don’t tell me it’s Ferelden.”

“Just like you like it,” Krem crowed, pulling out the seat that Dorian had habitually used in Skyhold before skirting around a chair at the head of the table to take one opposite Dorian.  “So, tell us, what finally got you?”

Dorian only distantly heard Krem’s voice, his attention riveted on that empty seat before him as a tidal wave of emotions swamped through him.  Emotions long since banished from his mind by sheer willpower during the day and fine wine at night.  Bull’s chair.  _Hissrad’s_ chair.

“You with me ‘Vint?” Krem questioned, slamming his tankard down on the table hard enough to have Dorian’s startled eyes flying up to meet his.

“What?” Dorian frowned, his mind replaying Krem’s words.  “Yes, yes, I’m with you.”

“It’s good to see you Dorian, just sorry it’s so soon,” Stitches offered from his spot next to Dorian.

“Aye, didn’t think we’d be seeing you for a few more years,” Rocky offered, as Grim, sitting next to him, raised his tankard in Dorian’s direction.

“Yes, well, I hope you’ll forgive me for admitting I had hoped to avoid being here myself.  There was still so much work to be done.”

“The Chief said you were doing good work,” Dalish piped up from her spot near the end of the table and Dorian’s eyes locked with hers as the implication of her words hit him like a maul to the chest.

“The Chief?” He managed to stammer, as her attention shifted to her lap.  His eyes darted from one Charger to the next as each of them refused to meet his gaze.  “Vishante kaffas, don’t ignore me…are you talking about The Iron Bull, Cremisius?  He’s here?”

Krem’s eyes finally met his own and Dorian saw only sorrow in them.  “He’s not the same as he was Dorian.”

“Kaffas, of course he isn’t,” Dorian growled as he surged to his feet.  “He fucking turned on us Cremisius, tried to kill Evie.”

“I know Dorian, he told us.”

“And you still follow him?  Venhedis, I had to…I…he…” Dorian broke off, his ears still echoing with his lover’s words ‘ _Nothing personal…bas_ ’, his muscles remembering exactly how it had felt to drag his blade across Bull’s throat, his eyes seeing the life fade from his lover’s.  Kaffas, he had burned that staff after the mission.  The fire so hot it melted the blade into a puddle that, as far as he knew, remained fused with the marble floor of the Winter Palace. 

The need to flee was overwhelming.  He couldn’t be here.  If the Bull was here then he couldn’t be.  Not when he still shed tears every year on the anniversary of that damned day.  Not when he still mourned the man he should have hated. 

Spinning on his heel Dorian made it four steps toward the door before he looked up to find The Iron Bull standing before him looking far more handsome than any spirit had a right to, and far more contrite than he had ever appeared in life.

“Kadan…”

In one word Dorian’s heart melted even as his temper soared.  “Don’t…you don’t get to call me that.”

Bull’s eye dropped along with his tentative smile.  “I’m sorry Dorian.  You’re right.  It’s just so good…”

“You don’t get to see the _good_ in this,” Dorian growled, shoving past his ex-lover and storming out the door.  And if he felt a small thrill when the door slammed shut behind him he refused to feel guilty for it.

 

Dorian wasn’t certain how long he paced outside the Herald’s Rest, certainly long enough to curse Andraste, the Maker and the Black Divine along with every stupid decision he ever made that had led to his forever being a broken down bar filled with people who hated him.

“It’s a bitch ain’t it?”

Dorian ignored Krem in favor of continuing his pacing which only made the young man laugh.  “You’re just like him you know…”

“I’m _nothing_ like him.”

“He spent his first night, week, fuck, whatever passes for time around here, running from his past.”

That stopped Dorian in his tracks, his eyes narrowing on Krem, chest puffed out as he argued, “A Pavus never runs.”

Krem shrugged.  “Sure as fuck looks like it from here.”

“What would you know about it?” Dorian growled, storming toward Krem.  “He fucking betrayed me and everything the Inquisition stood for.”

Rather than retreating, the warrior just met him half way.  “Don’t act like you have the exclusive contract on betrayal…I _died_ for him on that hill.”

“So did I.  It just took me longer,” Dorian hissed, his hands coming up to shove at Krem’s chest.  The younger man’s eyes flared with surprise before softening into sympathy.

Dorian snorted and shook his head.  “For thirteen years I trusted no one but Mae. No other friend, no confidant, no lover.  He took it all when he died…at least your death was quick.”

“’Vint…”

“I’m done talking, go back where you belong Cremisius and leave me be.”

 

 

Dorian sighed as he opened his eyes once again to see only fog.  He was finding it beyond frustrating that unlike the dream fade, his thoughts didn’t seem to want to manifest into reality here and no matter how hard he tried to visualize his little library alcove into being all he got was more mist. 

And the Herald’s Rest.  A bitter little laugh escaped him as he dropped to the ground and leaned his back against the side of the building.

“Tried to kill ‘im when I first saw him.”

He looked up to find Skinner of all people staring down at him, a little smirk on her face that he wasn’t sure was directed at him or her own thoughts.  “Yes, well that seems rather counterproductive considering we’re already dead.”

“Felt good though.”

A burst of bitter laughter broke free from Dorian.  “Yes, I suppose it would have.”

He thought he saw a smile twitch at the corner of her lips before Skinner squatted down before him.  “I understand bitter ‘Vint.  Spent the better part of my life feeling it, died feeling it, and you know what it got me?”

Dorian just arched a brow.  He might be dead, but he could still understand a rhetorical question when he heard it.

This time she did smile, small and soft and accompanied by a little scoff.  “It got me here.  An eternity spent with the Chargers and you and the man who let me die.”

“Hardly seems fair does it?”

“Didn’t think so for the longest time.  I mean, what fucked up Shem version of eternity sticks you in a place where the only thing to do is drink and stare at the man who caused your death?” Skinner shook her head slowly.  “But the problem with forever is that sooner or later you end up really looking at yourself…and you know what I found?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me either way…”

“Always were a smart one,” she chuckled.  “Anyway, I discovered that me being bitter only hurt me.  The Chargers didn’t care, they never did.  I was family to them.  It was me that spent my life wanting to hurt everyone for what one group of men did and I learned to let it go.”

My, but wasn’t she about as subtle as a maul to the skull?  Dorian snorted.  Then again, it was Skinner, what more had he expected?  Getting his feet under him he stood.  “Lovely.  Thank you for the pep talk, very inspiring really.  Now if you’ll excuse me.”

As he started to walk off Dorian was startled when her hand wrapped around his arm.  “I’m not the only one who has had time to look at their actions.  He’s changed Dorian…”

He barely had time to acknowledge how very odd his name sounded on her lips before she released him, and as he strode off into the gloom he heard her call out, “We’ll be here when you’re done running.”

 

 

He wasn’t running.  Why was it they all kept insisting he was?  What was so hard to understand about him not wanting to occupy the same space as the man who had betrayed him?  Who had betrayed everything they had worked toward for _years_.  The man he’d loved and been forced to…

Dorian stumbled to a stop.  Fasta vass, this was ridiculous.  That he could still feel guilty after all these years, guilty for doing what had to be done.  Because it had been either Hissrad or the rest of them, and even if he had been tempted for a moment to just let Bull have him, he could never have sacrificed Evie or Varric in the same manner.  ‘ _Nothing personal…bas’_

Growling softly, Dorian was flooded with something he hadn’t felt for years…anger.  Enough anger that he was shaking from it.  Nothing personal, he had said, but it was entirely personal.  Bull…Hissrad…whoever he was today, had purposely lied to him for years.  Had taken him to bed and called him Kadan and convinced him that he could be trusted…and it had all been a lie.

Dorian wasn’t even aware he had started moving again until he was standing before the Herald’s Rest, his hand reaching for the handle and he realized that this, _this_ was why he was here.  Wrenching the door open, he stormed into the tavern and straight toward the Chargers’ alcove.  He never even saw the surprised looks on the Chargers’ faces, his attention fully focused on the large man sitting at the head of the table. 

“Dorian?” Bull’s voice was as confused as the frown on his face…right up until Dorian’s fist caught him in the jaw.

Krem was half across the table before Dorian could wave him off, the rest of the Chargers’ shifting nervously as if they weren’t certain about getting involved and Bull…he just sat there.  Refusing to acknowledge the pain in his hand, Dorian hissed, “Fuck you Bull…it was personal.  It was _always_ personal.”

Before Bull so much as blinked, Dorian had spun around and headed for the door, only correcting himself at the last moment to charge up the stairs.  After all, if he couldn’t will his alcove into existence he might as well take advantage of Sera’s old room.  He only hoped the energetic archer had no need of it for many more years.

 

After that life, or rather, the afterlife, settled into a pattern.  It seemed that though he no longer needed sleep, years of habit would have him laying down and closing his eyes from time to time as did all the other inhabitants of the tavern.  And if he went down early enough after ‘waking’ then he was unlikely to run into The Iron Bull and could help himself to some of the food and drink that never seemed to run out. 

Then he would retreat back to the second floor of the tavern, where sometimes one of the Chargers would join him or he and Clarice would spend the evening playing chess at the board he’d discovered in Sera’s room.  Occasionally, Marcus and Oliver, two of Cullen’s soldiers who had apparently had no family outside each other, would seek him out for conversation.  Though that was rare and they tended to stick to each other’s company.

An even rarer occurrence would be The Iron Bull crossing his path, usually when Dorian had spent too long in Sera’s room reading and been late going down for his drink.  Those interactions were inevitably uncomfortable and served a strong reminder to Dorian to make certain he took care of his own needs at an earlier hour.

 

 

“I deserved that,” The Iron Bull had said at the first encounter, rubbing his jaw which certainly no longer hurt.

“You deserved far more.”

“I’m sorry Dorian.”

“You can keep your lying words.”

 

 

“Will you let me explain?” Was Bull’s second opening.

“There’s nothing to explain.”

“There’s _everything_ to explain.”

“You keep telling yourself that…I was there.”

 

 

“I was wrong,” Bull whispered at the next encounter.  “Not only about the Chargers and the Boss…but about you.”

“It hardly matters now.”

“It matters to me.”

“Then I shall leave you to it.”

 

 

“If I could do it over again…”

Dorian startled the sound of The Iron Bull’s voice.  It had been awhile since their last encounter and for some reason the regret he heard in Bull’s words just set fire to his own anger.  “What?  You’d lie better?  You’d take me out first?  I’ve often thought of that.  It was sloppy of you.  Everyone knows to take out the mage first.”

“I was supposed to,” the words were barely a whisper and yet they seemed to echo through the room.  “I’d been through it in my mind a dozen times.”

“Of course you had,” Dorian snorted, bitterness tinging his words.

“I was supposed to cut you down before you had time to cast.  We always stood together, it should have been easy.  Then my hand axe would have taken down Varric, leaving the Boss.  They didn’t really want her dead, and I thought with you and Varric down maybe…”

“She would _never_ have surrendered,” Dorian snarled.

Bull shrugged, sorrow evident in his eye.  “We’ll never know, because when the time came I just couldn’t.”

“A weakness I obviously didn’t share,” Dorian growled, self-loathing twisting itself through his anger at Bull.

“You protected the Boss.  You did the right thing,” Bull countered.  “I should have been strong enough to do the same.  I know that now.  And I’m sorry that my weakness hurt you.  Not only because I failed you but because I forced you to…”

“Don’t,” Dorian cried, his voice tortured as he reached out to lay his fingers over Bull’s lips.  “Please don’t.  Even now I still see it every time I close my eyes…I see you again…”

This time when Bull’s hands reached for him Dorian didn’t pull back, allowing himself to be drawn onto the warrior’s embrace, Bull’s voice soothing in his ear.  “Shhhhh, Kadan.  It was my fault…all my fault.  You were so strong…always so strong.  Stronger than I could ever be.”

“I killed you.  I loved you and I killed you.” Dorian muttered against Bull’s skin, tears falling unheeded from his eyes to splash against grey skin as Bull ran his hands up and down Dorian’s back.

How long they stood there was impossible to say, but eventually Dorian’s tears slowed and Bull dared to move one hand from Dorian’s back up to cup his cheek, his thumb wiping away one last tear.  “And still I love you.  I’ve always loved you Kadan.  You were always the best of me and now I have a chance to prove it to you…if you’ll let me.”

Dorian sniffled, reading the truth in Bull’s eye as he leaned forward to rest his head against the warrior’s chest.  “I don’t suppose I have anywhere else to be.”

Dorian felt Bull’s grin as the warrior rubbed his cheek against the top of Dorian’s head.  “I’m selfish Kadan, I need to hear it.  Do you think you can forgive me?”

Dorian reached into his robes and pulled out a battered dragon tooth pendant.  One that had never left his neck despite Bull’s betrayal because the emotions behind it had never changed for him.  Bull’s eye widened with shock before his gaze softened.  “Kadan…”

“Amatus…”  Before Dorian could say anymore Bull’s lips found his, the kiss soft and full of apology and the taste of promise.

“Oh for Andraste’s sake," Krem's voice boomed out through the tavern.  "Would you two get a room?”


End file.
